


Devil May Care

by Issay



Series: Surprise Crossovers [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Explicit Language, M/M, slightly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issay/pseuds/Issay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Valentine's plan, the British intelligence community is having a really bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil May Care

**Author's Note:**

> The building of the massive crossover universe continues. Prompts, wishes and feedback loved and appreciated!
> 
> [Find me on tumblr!](http://issayscorner.tumblr.com/)

They don't get to be domestic. Not with Harry assuming the role of Arthur and Eggsy being an active field agent – but it doesn't stop them from trying.  
“I guess we should get going,” sighed Harry , fingers drawing in the wetness on Eggsy's naked, very muscled back. His completely blissed out partner muttered something incomprehensible, apparently refusing to move from his comfortable nest of rumpled sheets and Harry's warmth.  
“Come, Eggsy. I've got a meeting in an hour with the man behind the Crown. It looks more than promising,” Harry's smile had something rather nasty in it. Eggsy frowned.

“Damn it,” said the most powerful man in the entire United Kingdom with barely concealed rage. “God damn it. Fuck.”  
“Yes, that would sum it up,” replied Arthur calmly. Not even a muscle moved towards a satisfied smile he would love to indulge in. But not now. Not yet. “Some more tea, Mr Holmes?”  
“No, thank you. Fuck. How did Valentine get to so many of them?”  
“And that's only the MI5 and MI6, we have no idea how many more of them you'll find when you start the obligatory check-ups in other MI branches. Thank God he chose bigger devices rather than nanotechnology, we would be absolutely fucked up if he did.”  
“I assume your agency is already clean?”  
Arthur nodded, pouring himself some more Earl Grey.  
“How many?”  
“Without my predecessor?” Harry noticed that Mycroft's eyes opened wider. “Three field agents, seven analysts, twenty four from the outer personnel, at that's only our UK base. It's a bloody nightmare, we've got recruitment going on in every single division throughout the world.”  
“What a mess.”  
“A mess indeed.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” said Q dryly looking at the long list of agents, personnel members and other persons of interest who apparently betrayed their Queen and country. “Please, tell me it's a very bad joke.”  
“Kingsman intel is rarely wrong, I'm afraid,” replied Mycroft with a grimace of distaste on his face. “They are a PR nightmare and I am not completely fond of having a private intelligence agency run on the UK soil but they can be trusted. And apparently they saved us a lot of trouble, so, young Quartermaster, no, this is not a fucking joke.”  
M rubbed his eyes. They were currently sitting in his office, soundproofed and swept for bugs especially for the occasion of Mycroft Holmes himself visiting the MI6 headquarters. As usually, the man was the bearer of bad news. Obviously.  
“We have already started on the sweeps,” he muttered. “The rest is now being scanned but it will take time and will considerably diminish our effectiveness. For now the whole MI6 is on lockdown, our foreign operatives are en route home. Weren't informed as to why they are being pulled off their cases, obviously.”  
“This is a bad, bad dream. I'm losing half of the whole fucking Q-branch, how do you expect me to run anything without half of my people?” asked Q with more then a bit of denial evident in his voice. The other two men only exchanged glances.

007 had a terribly bad day.  
It had started with armed people in his flat, one wielding a device looking like a scanner and being hell-bent on looking for something behind Bond's ears.  
When he was eventually cleared from any suspicion – of what, they didn't say – James made his way to MI6 because why the fuck not. He deserved some answers, after all.  
007 was greeted by the bloodstains of usually impeccably clean floors and screaming, God, so much screaming when a group of solemnly looking armed, dressed in black men dragged one of the technicians away. Without even thinking about it, Bond started running.  
Apparently, the whole MI6 was having a terribly bad day.  
James stopped in the entrance to Q's office, the man himself sitting behind his desk looking rather pissed off. Which, all things considered, James found quite adorable, since the Quartermaster looked like an annoyed kitten, ready to hiss and scratch. Actually, forget that. It would be adorable if the Q-branch wasn't looking like a hurricane went through it and if there were no bloody hand prints on gray walls.  
“What the hell is happening?” he asked eventually, when Q noticed he was being watched.  
“A fucking nightmare, that's what,” younger man grumbled and James stopped himself from pressing further while out in the open – a few of undisturbed-looking technicians were in the control room. A few of them were crying.  
He came in and closed the door, lock clicking quietly.  
“Tell me.”  
Q sighed and closed his eyes when Bond's hands started kneading his strained neck and shoulders.  
“We had an early morning visit from Mycroft Holmes,” Q's voice was close to purring as James gently worked on a particularly hard knot just above his shoulder blade. “He came in with a three pages long list of traitors, something connected to a man called Valentine.”  
“The one with the communications company?”  
“Yep. Fifteen people, Bond, I'm losing fifteen people from the Q-branch alone. 005 is dead, he resisted the scan and there's a shoot-on-sight order on anyone who refuses to be scanned. It's a fucking mess, that's what it is.”  
Bond bent over and landed a soft kiss on the top of Q's head, for a little moment just breathing the man in. All he smelled was Earl Grey and warmth, no blood. No reason to panic. He felt his pulse slowing down.  
“It'll be fine, Q. We'll be fine, as always.”

No, they don't get to be domestic. But sometimes, on rare occasions such as this one, Eggsy gets to go to Arthur's office and drag Harry out.  
“You're working too much,” he said to Harry's protests and drove Arthur home just because he could. Just like that, to their _home_ , to have a late dinner and maybe then Eggsy gets to fuck all of the day's stresses and tensions out of Harry.  
“I killed a lot of people today,” sighs the older man when they sit down after dinner to watch a movie. Eggsy looks away from the telly and at Harry, eyebrows raised.  
“How so?”  
For a long moment Harry busied his fingers with simply touching Eggsy, finding comfort in the warmth of the skin and just being.  
“I gave Mycroft the list of the traitors from the British government. I expect that by the end of the week they'll be free of Valentine's people.”  
“Had to be done.”  
Eggsy nuzzled Harry's neck and kissed the pulse point. Yes, sometimes things just have to be done.  
And that's their job, isn't it?

 _The Black Thursday, as it is often referred to, was the biggest purge in history of the British intelligence. There are no official reports but it is said that this act of unprecedented violence against UK's own operatives cost the lives of over two hundred people._  
_It's reasons, even years after the event, stay classified and are considered the biggest mystery of the modern-day espionage industr_ y.  
(“Gun and Dagger: The Untold History of British Intelligence”, Underwood and Blackhill, 2057)


End file.
